When we first pitched the idea to Grub Street, the conference organizer confessed that the idea “freaked [him] out a bit.” After all, writing is such a solitary endeavor and as writers we like to think we can — and should — do everything ourselves, every step of the way.

Nothing else feels right. And after years of solitary drafting and revising, of silently dreaming and imagining what the pages will look like and what publishing this book will mean for your identity and your future, it’s hard not to feel anxious about getting help.

I get it. But the truth is, it’s becoming fairly standard in these busy, hyper competitive times for authors approaching publication to outsource a variety of tasks. Manuscript consultants and developmental editors like Nicola help get drafts into the best possible shape before submitting to agents. Research assistants check facts or make lists of conferences to attend. Social media pros help build up authors’ quintessential online presence. And with publishers’ resources squeezed, many authors opt to hire independent publicists to help get news and reviews once their book is out.

Still, chances are you’ll lose sleep wondering whether your manuscript consultant was right in suggesting you cut the scene you slaved over for months – and whether you should take his advice or ignore it. Or whether the independent publicist you hired is doing anything at all. So you enter your outsourcing arrangements determined to take what the pros you’ve hired say with a grain of salt and to keep a very close eye on them so they get it right.

As one who now sits on the “outsourced” side of this equation, I have seen that, paradoxically, this reluctance to let go is exactly where real disappointment begins. Because by definition, outsourcing means entrusting a project to somebody else, and letting go. Embedded in “entrusting” is trust. Trusting the person or people you’ve hired empowers them to do their very best. On the flip side, not trusting them will result in immense frustration on all sides. And frustration is not the ideal backdrop for success.

Let’s take website design for example. I am personally guilty of not having let go here, even after hiring an outstanding, reputable firm. Through the building of two separate sites, I proceeded to second guess every graphic and every color the designer chose. Rather than complete the job in three rounds of back-and-forth, the designer needed almost ten rounds to accommodate my changes and directives. Over time he grew frustrated with my onslaught of requests. After a while he stopped trying to convince me of why my choices weren’t working and just did what I asked. The project wound up costing nearly twice the initial estimate, and after barely 18 months of having the site up and running, I see that he was right and wish I could redo it.

As a provider myself, I understand his frustration. Going back and forth with authors in response to questions about why I’m reaching out to one particular reporter instead of another at, say, the Boston Globe, or being given to-do lists and asked to account for each item takes time and energy away from doing my job and doing it well. At times, I have found myself slipping into the same mode as my website designer: that is, doing what a client instructs me to do simply to keep the peace, even if I know the results won’t be as good as they would have been if I’d followed my gut. All the while feeling somewhat resigned to having my hands tied or having to explain my every move — thus somewhat disempowered, and less motivated to give it my all.

In contrast, the most successful campaigns I’ve led have been those where an author gives my team and me carte blanche to do our thing. In those cases, the pure joy and excitement of being able to exercise our creativity on the job almost always snowballs into amazing results – including some wonderful surprises. I’ve heard cover designers, independent editors and social media specialists say the same.

That’s why I’m convinced it’s incredibly important for writers to learn to let go. True, as writers we value our solitude and the control we have over our work. But for our work to have broader appeal, to speak broadly to readers and to transcend our immediate networks, we will have no choice but to outsource at least certain core tasks at some point. After all, it takes a village to create a great book and bring it out into the world.

How, then, can we bridge the chasm between solitary creation and outsourcing? Here’s my take:

Hire people you trust. Vet the professionals you hire through word of mouth, references and work samples. Take the time you need to talk with them before signing the dotted line. This is something they should be willing to do. If not: red flag.

Trust the people you hire. Once you’ve made a choice, commit to trusting those whose help you’ve enlisted. You hired them for their knowledge and skills. If you’re feeling a lack of trust, ask yourself whether it is founded on something real –for example, their behavior — or whether in fact it may stem simply from anxiety.

Accept that no two providers are the same. Just as no two authors will write the same book, no two designers, copy editors, social media pros or publicists can possibly yield the same results. Having made a choice, accept that the person you have selected will bring his or her own unique gifts and perspective and will deliver results that reflect these.

Resist the urge to micromanage. Micromanaging suggests a lack of trust, will take your provider’s time away from other, more strategic tasks, will take your time away from the things you do best and will inevitably lead to frustration on both sides.

Remember: There is no such thing as perfect. Each and every provider you choose to work with WILL have flaws. But remember: each one will also be able to make something wonderful happen that nobody else could.

Having made these choices, let go and put your time to use doing what you do best. Then see where your provider’s talents take you.

Have you outsourced as a writer? If so, what tasks, and to whom? How has the experience been and what have you learned?

Sharon Bially (@SharonBially) is the founder and president of BookSavvy PR, a public relations firm devoted to authors and books. Author of the novel Veronica’s Nap, she’s a member of the Director's Circle at Grub Street, Inc., the nation’s largest independent writing center, and writes occasionally for the Grub Street Daily.

Comments

Sharon–For those whose problem has to do with obsessive control, yours is a must-save post. My problem is different. I gratefully turn over control to cover designers, formatters, and editors. My problem has to do mostly with finding a marketer who is honest, willing and able to identify approaches that are suited specifically to me and my books. Not generic, boilerplate admonitions to “master social media, build a newsletter list, go to conferences,” etcetera. I’m too old for such approaches. I need to work with someone who’s prepared to find other ways to aid me and my work. Such a marketer has to be willing to learn my work’s particular strengths and weaknesses, as well as my strengths and weaknesses as a partner in the process. Of course no one can be expected to do this for free. I have done business with marketers who were both honest and dishonest, but I have yet to find one who can help me on my own terms. Of course it’s possible that I’m not marketable, and don’t produce marketable work, but I have legitimate reasons for thinking that’s not true. Thanks again for clear, useful advice on a topic of importance to many writers.

You make excellent points here, Sharon. I always thought I could learn anything I needed to know, but found that, if only in terms of time, I was better off hiring people who already had those skills.

Your first point about hiring people you trust can be complex. Word of mouth is best, and that’s where the network you’ve built can help. I was lucky enough to belong to a local branch of the Independent Book Publishers Association and through them found experts I needed. I’ve also found experts at writers’ conferences.

I would add that a good starting place is assessing your own areas of expertise. For example, I know little about graphic design, so I’ve relied on others for my website and book designs. However, with my second poetry collection, the designs submitted were far off the mark–I’d broken my own rule and hired a friend who wanted to get started in the business. In that case, we worked together, using an idea I suggested. If it’s really wrong, you needn’t be afraid to say so.

Another example is promotion. I learned a lot, but eventually realised I needed to go to another level. Through my association I found a publicist. Nervous because a couple of my friends had been burned by signing expensive contracts with unsatisfactory results, I chose someone willing to work cafeteria-style and initially only ordered one thing (a press release) as a trial.

The publicist turned out to be wonderful and we worked together for several years until she retired. Still, it is always a good idea to start small when hiring someone. Have a potential editor look at one chapter or ask a web designer for a critique of your current website. Seeing a sample of their work will help you have confidence in their skill.

Great point about trying somebody out “cafeteria style,” Barbara. It’s true that hiring somebody you trust is complex. Being able to take baby steps and try somebody out is a great way to build that trust.

Sharon, you make really good points. I love ‘there’s no such thing as perfect.’ I am a believer in letting go. But doing it in reality brings uncertainty: should I let go or persist in my need? I’ve learned the hard way about trusting editors or marketing folk. Often times, they “the outsourcers” don’t always know what’s best for you personally. I once had an esteemed and highly recommended editor instruct me to rewrite my story from third person to first person narrative. I resisted because first person felt so wrong for the story and for me writing it. Then I tried it and what a disaster! I changed editors and the story finished up well in third person to go on to publication. I do think a writer has to be ruthlessly honest and learn to discern when the advice is off. All this takes experience, trial and error, yes?

“Often times, they “the outsourcers” don’t always know what’s best for you personally.” This is true, Paula, and it’s definitely important to get that right, too. There does need to be a give and take in order to do so. I think the challenge comes when in fact, we’re not sure ourselves what’s best for us personally but know only that it’s “more” or “better” than what’s being offered. But yes, establishing up front that there needs to be a give and take on this, and being able to communicate about it, is key.

Thanks for an excellent post on a little-discussed subject. it’s a balancing act, isn’t it? In the modern world, most career novelists should know how to post on a blog and update their websites, but it isn’t necessary to know how to design or create the thing. Learning how to make a simple graphic to share on FB or Twitter is one thing; creating the detailed files needed for new bookmarks another.

This week, I’m going over notes from a freelance editor, a woman whose work for me and others I respect highly. I know from experience that she’s more often right than wrong, but also that I can make certain changes and resolve a concern she had — even if they aren’t the changes she recommends.

I love learning new skills, but the focus needs to remain the page, not the periphery. And that’s where other experts come in.

That’s great, Leslie! I think that with manuscript editing,more than with other types of services the give and take between provider and author should be pretty robust. After all, as writers we do know more about the written word than about, say, design. (Well, in general.) The important thing here is to be able to listen and take comments on board, and to be willing to cut or trim or tweak in response to an editor’s comments even if it’s painful, and even if in the end the result is more of a compromise between the editor’s vision and our own.

I’m in this situation now. I’ve maintained my own web site for 15 years. And now I’ve gotten to the point where I need upgrades beyond my technical skills. I just hired someone. I’m very, very nervous about it. And it is very, very difficult to resist the urge to micromanage.

I know it’s easy to dole out the advice “resist the urge to micromanage” – but that it’s really hard to put into action! I think the middle ground between fully resisting and actually micromanaging would be to pause before intervening and ask yourself, “What’s motivating me? Anxiety or a constructive need to offer some feedback?”